Back in Agreement
by chelsie fan
Summary: S5 SPOILERS! Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes have different ideas about many things, but a difference of opinion doesn't mean that they respect each other any less or care for each other any less. They can still hold each other in high regard while disagreeing about something (or many things).


**A/N S5 SPOILERS! This is just a little something that popped into my head after the first few episodes of S5. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes have different ideas about many things, but a difference of opinion doesn't mean that they respect each other any less or care for each other any less. They can still hold each other in high regard while disagreeing about something (or many things).**

As she approached the churchyard on her half-day, she noticed a familiar figure standing in the precise spot toward which she was heading. He stood, head bowed, hat in hand, at the young man's grave. Wanting to afford him some privacy and spare him any awkwardness, she kept a respectable distance away. She thought she really should just leave him to himself and forego her usual visit. She felt somewhat guilty for intruding on such a private moment, but she found herself unable to tear her gaze away. After standing riveted in place for a few minutes, she'd finally mustered enough resolve and was going to leave, but it was too late. He'd turned and seen her. Embarrassed to have been caught watching him, she cast her eyes down at the ground before her. Unsure whether she should speak to him or simply walk away in silence, she remained for a moment to try to gauge his reaction to her unexpected presence. From the corner of her eye, she saw him striding toward her and looked up to see him replacing his handkerchief in his pocket.

"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," he said softly when he stopped in front of her.

"Hello, Mr. Carson. I didn't expect to see you in the village today. Only, when I'm here on errands, I like to stop and visit them: Mr. Matthew, Lady Sybil, William … " she explained, matching his quiet tone. She rushed on to apologize. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your solitude."

"I don't mind. I didn't expect to see you either, but I'm always glad of your company. I had some business with the memorial committee and stopped here afterward. But I'm afraid I'm preventing you from making your visits. Please, go ahead." He held out his hand and gestured in the direction from which he'd just come.

"Will you stay with me? Then, when I'm finished, if you're done here in the village, we can walk back together."

"All right," he agreed.

He lingered in his spot, apparently intending to wait for her and allow her to go about her business alone. But she took his hand and gently pulled him along with her. First, she led him to Mr. Matthew's grave, with its large stone marker, and they spent a few minutes in silent reflection. Then they stopped and shed some tears for Lady Sybil, whose tomb was marked with an elaborately and delicately carved mass of granite. Lastly, they arrived at William's final resting place, adorned with a simple cross. After paying their respects, they made their way out of the churchyard and started on the path back to Downton.

When they came to a secluded place in the lane, he stopped walking and took her hand, thereby halting her progress, as well. When they stood facing each other, her hand held loosely in his, he spoke seriously.

"I need you to understand something, Mrs. Hughes. When you came upon me just now, I was in no fit state to be seen by anyone, except perhaps for you. I try to visit William's grave when no one else is about. The lad was like a son to me, or as near as I'll ever have, and I still feel his loss keenly. But I prefer to mourn privately. I don't mind your seeing me like that, but I'd rather not have the whole village witness my bereavement. I don't want to walk out of the churchyard, red-faced and puffy-eyed, and have to tip my hat to Mrs. Anderson on her way to the grocer's. I don't want to choke back a sob and will my voice not to crack as I make small talk with Mr. Markham coming out of the tavern.

"That's why I favored the idea of a memorial garden. When people go to such a place, they don't expect small talk or pleasantries when they happen upon other visitors. They're all there for the same purpose, united by their sorrow and their loss. If the garden is set away from the village, then the time it takes to walk there and back can be spent in quiet meditation, and people can put themselves in the proper frame of mind before arriving and then again after leaving. There are no distractions. Those lads deserve special recognition and a place set apart, not just a passing thought on the way to the post office.

"That's also why I opposed the idea of Mrs. Patmore's nephew's name being included with the others, you know. It seemed almost disloyal to William. He was such a brave lad. Do you remember how eager he was to go and fight, to do his part? And do you remember how brave he was when he came back wounded, knowing he was going to die? I mean no slight against the Philpotts lad. I'm sure he was a fine young man, but in the end, our William had something he didn't. Our William was … _special_." His voice trailed off quietly as a tear slid down his cheek.

As she looked into his sad eyes, her heart clenched. She shifted her handbag to hang on her arm, took his other hand in hers, brought it up between them, and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson. I'd no idea. Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me."

He moved closer to her, drew their joined hands to his chest, and spoke urgently. "It's important to me that you understand. I don't like it when we're at odds. Please don't think me cold and unfeeling. I can't bear for you to think ill of me."

She was nearly overcome by the way he was opening his heart to her and felt she had to reassure him. "I _do_ understand. I might have different ideas, myself, but I do understand your reasoning. And as for thinking ill of you … I could never. I've always held you in the highest regard. No difference of opinion could ever change that." Further words failing, she lifted herself on her toes and kissed his cheek softly.

A warm smile spread over his face as he whispered, "Thank you for that, Mrs. Hughes." He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they walked home, pleased to be back in agreement.

**A/N Thanks for reading, and please review. I'd love to know your thoughts.**


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